Rolled 66 (1d100)
>>5287044“Here,” the Novice commands, stuffing the amulet back into the worm-woman’s odd, multi-segmented digits. “Put it back on.”
Glowie looks to you, as if for confirmation that it will be safe. You, in turn, give the Novice a pointed look. The Novice croaks haughtily, and snatches the amulet back, leaping upon Glowie and pulling the necklace over her head-segment.
A moment later, Glowie is transformed anew. Something is subtly different, you can tell. She looks a bit more naturally-proportioned, but her colouration and build are still not quite the same as the Novice’s, despite she herself providing the base template—in fact, the differences are MORE pronounced!
“I took samples from the Botanist while tending to his wounds from the battle,” the Novice says, proud of her subterfuge and the end result.
“And this is… It?” you ask, somehow having expected more. The disguised Glowie is certainly a bit more naturalistic, less uncanny, and more distinctly herself, but is this ALL? ANY Fleshweaver could do such a thing, you would assume, but the Novice seemed peculiarly proud.
…But, predictably, your dramatic childhood ‘companion’ was setting you up again. She smacks your rear with her tail, and clears her throat. Then, she hisses unexpected words: “Glowie, speak.”
Glowie looks startled (as are you, though you hide it better). However, when she obediently opens her mouth, an actual sound emerges!
“A-aaah,” she says quietly. Then, blinking her eyes in astonishment, she tries again. “Ssssaaaasssaaaaaaasssssaaaaaaa. Ah.”
Well, it’s not eloquent speechcraft, but it’s more than she could manage before!
“Your venom should be intact, too,” the Novice tells her boastfully, “and even your spinneret. I incorporated samples from YOU as well.”
“She wasn’t injured in the battle,” you note. “When did you take those samples?”
The Novice waves off your concerns, to your annoyance. Still, the results almost LITERALLY speak for themselves.
“So, she can speak.” You pause. “Sort of.”
“Well, she has vocal chords, anyway, and a proper pallet,” the Novice corrects. “Some degree of… We’ll call it ‘speech therapy’… Will be necessary.”
“Which you will attend to, I presume?”
The Novice snickers, and says “If I can tear you two apart long enough to do so.”
Glowie looks both disturbed and excited, as you suppose you might if you were transfigured into a bug and discovered you could communicate by chittering.
With this matter attended to, the three of your return to the main body of your force. If anyone notices the subtle changes in Glowie, they do not comment upon them; her amulet, of course, is safely stuffed into her robes once more, so as not to raise questions.
“Let us continue,” you declare, and your retinue readies to do so without another word.
